Five Aces, Part 1

By Elias Tobias

First in a four-part series

“Michigan is pretty in the spring, ” Georgia said as she looked out of the window. The trees were a blurred green and the leaves were indistinguishable against the bright blue sky. A large green information sign approached the luxury Buick automobile as it traveled west on Interstate 96 . Within seconds, it was in focus . “We’re 10 miles away from Lansing We’re getting closer. ”
“But we still have a hour and a half drive to Millbrook,” Malcolm said without even a glance at the map beside him. Georgia picked the map up and laid it on her lap. The air from the air conditioner ruffled the pages. Quickly, she grabbed the corner of the book atlas. She bent down and moved the map closer at the same time. “Where is Millbrook?” she asked.
“It’s circled in red, near Mount Pleasant.”
“Oh I see it now,” she said. She studied the map and moved her lips as she counted the miles indicated. “Yeah, you ‘ re right. ” She glanced out of the side window. “How big of a place is Millbrook, any  way? Does it have a country store and a gas station?” she asked.
“Honey, the only thing in Millbrook is the school .  It’s been that way for 150 years now. It has those other things, like a store and a gas station, and even two or three farm houses.  If it weren’t for the school, the town wouldn’t have it’s stoplight on the highway. ”
Malcolm was referring to Highway 66, the main link to civilization from Millbrook. The school is Kroeson Military Academy. Millbrook connects to the highway by a country road called appropriately School Road. Like all midwestern places, there were several country routes to Millbrook, but their northern path along Highway 66 was the easiest and most used.
“It will be nice to see the school again. I’ll show you the rooms I lived in for four years. Those were the best years of my life. . . ,” Malcolm continued as he stared past the horizon. “. . . until I married you, of course,” he finished. He turned his head and smiled at Georgia.
“Of course,” she responded with a smirk across her face.
“What I learned there made me the man I am today. Not many people in this world can say things like that, but I can,” he said proudly.
“That’s your secret to success? Kroeson Military Academy?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Then if you believe in the school, why do you want to make it into a resort? Wouldn’t people benefit more if it were left as a school?” she asked.
“The answer to the last question is yes. It would be better if it remained a school. But it’s not 1832, it’s 2012.”
“I thought you said the school was 170 years old. If it started in 1832, then it’s 180 years old,” she interrupted.
“Okay, it started in 1834, then. It’s still 2012. The school was forced to close. That law suit about co-ed status broke the bank account after years of declined enrollment.
That’s a sign that things must change. That’s why I want to make it into a resort, resting heavily on the tradition of the school. You would be surprised how many people who went there want to visit the place. The least I can do is offer them a chance to do it in style,” Malcolm explained. He turned his eyes to the road, an attempt to avoid any more justification of his decision.
Georgia looked down at the map again and then Malcolm turned up the radio to break the silence. Malcolm McDonald, trim for his 43 years of age, shuffled his body in the seat. His blond hair was starting to recede, but showed no other signs of advancement. He learned to take care of himself, physically and mentally at Kroeson Military Academy. Ranked 12th in the 320 students of the class of 1959, he had participated on the varsity team in every sport offered at the time. He excelled in marksmanship, winning the rifleman award six times.
The award was offered every semester. He enlisted in the Marines after graduation because he said he wanted to be the best. He took his success at the school and made it into millions of dollars just 10 years after graduation by the purchase of farm land from farmers forced to sell land for outstanding bank debts. The land was resold at a substantial profit. The money was reinvested into land, and then stocks.
After a few large losses on the Dow Jones, he recovered his liabilities, and invested into several insurance companies. The money never seemed to stop. The farm land turned to cash as more people moved to the cities. People needed houses, and he started a construction company. The activities were insured by his insurance agency.
Georgia Friedman worked as a clerk in the recruiter’s office. A green information sign grew in size as she stared at it. “Lansing, next three exits.”  She closed her eyes and rested. Her head rested against the seat.
“I want to be a Marine.” Malcolm told her as she looked up at him from the desk that was cluttered with folders. She had concentrated on the words she typed on a printed form.
“You came to the right place,” she smiled. “What‘s your name sir?” she asked. Her hands automatically moved from the typewriter to a series of folders. She found a pencil that was hidden under one of them. Soon she held a handful of forms, and gave them to him.
“Malcolm McDonald,” he said as he watched her motions with delight. He looked at the nameplate on the desk.
“Georgia.” She smiled. “Georgia, wake up,” Malcolm shook her arm. “What were you smiling about? You looked like you were having a good time. ”
“I was. I was remembering when we first met,” she said.
“There’s a gas station and a restaurant at the next exit. We need to stop for gas, and I ‘m hungry. Want to stop?” he asked.
“You’re driving the car, not me,” she teased.
“You look tired when you were resting. I thought you might want something to eat, honey, “he suggested.
“Let’s stop. ” she decided. After a credit-card fill-up, they parked next to the front entrance of a steak house. Malcolm released the door locks and opened his door. Georgia waited as he opened her door. He opened the door of the restaurant and she smiled at Malcolm as she received the royal treatment. Her long and thick brown hair tossed in the air as the door opened. An air-condition vent blew air out of the foyer. Her light blue skirt moved gracefully as she walked with her left arm in Malcolm’s right to a smiling hostess next to a cash register.
“Table for two,” he gestured with two fingers from his free hand. It really wasn’t necessary. Once a table was chosen, he escorted Georgia to her seat, and sat across from her.
“I’m glad we stopped. I was getting tired of the road,” Georgia said. A waitress brought over glasses of water and menus.
“I can’t wait to get there. I know you’ll fall in love with the school once you see it,” Malcolm said as he read the menu.
Georgia glanced at the script writing under the line illustrations. “I’ll let you order for me this time,” she said as she put it down on the table.
“Okay,” he answered as he peeked over the large food list.
“Sometimes I think you never grew up and act just like you did at Kroeson,” she said with a smile. The food order was taken, and the couple stared at each other.
He reached into his suit pocked and found a pamphlet. “Here’s an old brochure about the school. The top picture on the cover is the original dormitory. Washington Hall. I stayed there two years in two different rooms.” He handed it to Georgia. She looked at the color picture of the ivy-covered red brick building. “Below that is the library, and next to that is a statue of Capt. Kroeson. Under that is Pine Lake and the boat house, and next to that is the dance hall. Every semester there was a formal dance,” Malcolm explained.
She glanced at the rest of the brochure.
“I feel like G. B. Debasco,” Malcolm said. His wife looked at him with a puzzled expression. “He saved the school and he was an alumnus of the school, too. It’s all printed in the brochure. Read it while we wait for the food.”
“Yes, sir,” she quickly responded. She put her left hand over her mouth and giggled politely.
With a straight face, she started reading, “Nestled in the heart of Michigan, Kroeson Military Academy is located conveniently in Millbrook, 50 miles northeast of Grand Rapids. The entrance is a short drive from Highway 66. The school was established by Capt. Daniel Francis Kroeson, on his 50 acre farm after several years of poor corn and wheat crops.
“He bought the property when he went into semi-retirement from an outstanding career as a professional soldier. Family tradition dictated the domestic lifestyle and he didn’t want to lose the investment of the property, which was made in part by family finances. He erected three buildings dormitory named after George Washington. .
The bell-like sound of a spoon that struck a glass caught her attention for a moment. She continued reading.
“. . .Debasco incorporated the Academy in 1897 when the school had over 500 students. Mr. Bales died in a stable accident three years later, and Cynthia Marie Bales died in 1905 after dedicating over 41 years of her life to the institution. ”
“The tradition of excellence and honor continues everyday at Kroeson Military Academy as young boys receive quality education designed to form their physical, mental, and emotional attitudes that will benefit them the rest of their lives. Successful alumni often send their sons to the academy, and constant contact with graduates is maintained by the alumni association. A firm foundation for life is readily available at Kroeson Military Academy. Tour our facilities and stay overnight at our historic visitor’s center,” the brochure ended.
“Excuse me,” said the waitress.
“Georgia, honey,” Malcolm said. “Soup’s on,” as she looked up.
“Thank you,” Georgia said as the food was placed on the table.     ”Malcolm, for a school entrenched with a male-dominated attitude, the women sure played a great role in the survival of the academy. ”
“Right, but they continued to support the men even after their husbands died,” Malcolm said.
“But the women didn’t do it just for their husbands.  Mrs. Kroeson did it for herself, too. She made a good thing better than what her husband had. Isn’t that an incentive for success, ” Georgia argued.
He smiled at her like a gambler showing his ace. “That’s why I want you to be a part of the resort, too, honey. ” He took a bite of his steak with satisfaction.  “That’s why I want you to see the school for yourself, instead of reading a history lesson. It’s a living place where the past and present blend in harmony. It’s a good investment, too. “  He took another bite.

Who is Elias Tobias? Go to his biography that is also in Spanish.